Headcanon Fortress Stories
by GonnaBeQueen
Summary: one shots, imagines, headcanons from my tumblr blog Headcanon Fortress. trigger warnings, NSFW, who knows where these could go. all pairings possible.
1. Laughter (Scout and his Ma)

Scout waited patiently behind Heavy in the line for the phone. He would normally send a quick letter or a telegram back home to check in but he had gotten a message from Scott, his oldest brother that he should call home soon, that had been a week ago and he had kind of forgotten about it until he had found the slip of paper on the floor. He had run to the phone to find Heavy rambling away in his commie language. Scout tried his best to wait patiently, it was ridiculous but he was scared if he was rude his mother would hear it in his voice somehow and smack his head through the phone. He smiled slightly thinking of his mother and the way she would affectionately whack his skull when he was acting stupid, or how all she would have to do is gesture towards a shoe or a metal spoon and instantly he and his brothers would close their mouths and cease all movement until they had her forgiveness. His mother was a hell of a woman and he knew it. The longer he waited the more excited he got at the idea of speaking with his family. He hadn't made a trip home in months and hadn't had heard much.

Scott must have gotten his Master's degree by now, or would very soon.

Tom and his wife must have had their baby by now.

Mike.

Dominic.

Matt.

Tony.

Ricky.

Scout named off all of his siblings in his head one by one. Finally Heavy muttered a phase he knew as 'good bye' in Russian, a quick: "Dasvidaniya".

Heavy put down the phone and eyed Scout curiously. "What is little Scout doing here by telephone. Is odd to not see you out on track field while sun is out."

"Gotta' call my Ma. Move along big guy." Scout tried to squish past Heavy but the giant mad didn't budge, not until Scout murmured out a "please."

With Heavy lumbering away down the hall Scout quickly pushed in the 4 for outgoing calls and then a few ID numbers and finally his home phone. It rang once, twice, and three times. Then it kept ringing. And ringing. Right when Scout was about to hang up a woman answered, it wasn't Ma.

"Hello?" she sounded sad. "McLaughlin Residence, who's this?"

"It's me, Dylan…" Scout whispered his name,"…uh… Chelly?"

"Oh! Dylan! Here let me get your brother-"she was off the line before Scout could protest that he didn't want to talk to Scott. But Scott was on the phone in a matter of seconds.

"Hey, Dylan." Scott sounded sad as well. "How… how are you…? I'm glad you called…"

"Listen Scott if this is about Tony and his gambling problem I don't care! I'm not bailing him out again and I'm not doing another god damned intervention-"

"It's Ma." Scotts voice cracked. "It's Ma, Dil. Ma's not… she sick."

"What like with a cold or-"

"The doctors don't know what it is to be sure…"

"Is she-"

"She's not going to get better Dylan."

"What do you mean she's not going to get better Scott."

"Listen this really isn't something you talk about over the phone; I think you should take some time off and come home. Before it's you know… too late."

Scout just slammed the phone down on the receiver. He stood there in shock for a long while just staring at the warn buttons. The 7 and the 5 had completely lost their paint. His hand came up and grasped over his mouth as he tried to keep his breath slow but he was starting to feel tightness in his throat and heat behind his eyes. His body shook and he slammed his hand on the wall, there was a crack and pain shot up his arm, he let out a cry. He looked at his hand, small amounts of blood oozed from a scratch on the knuckle. Realization hit and he ran off to the MedBay where he would find Medic pretending to be doing paperwork.

Scout burst through the double swinging doors to find Medic right where he expected staring off into space with the end of a pen between his lips and a bird sitting on his head.

"Doc hey, I need your help."

"What have you done this time?" Medics eyes hardly even looked over to Scout, the ceiling was way to interesting.

"Nothing, it's just my Ma, she's sick-"

"I can't treat non Mann Co employees…" Medic recited.

"Can you at least… I don't know help? The doctors back home don't know what's wrong… maybe if you knew someone? Come on man, what if it was your Ma?" Medic eyes him suspiciously; he seemed to be thinking about it. Scout had no idea if referencing Medics own mother would work or not but it seemed to get the man at least to acknowledge him.

"I will speak with them, that is all." Medic stood and the bird fluttered away. He and Scout returned to the phone, Scout running ahead to dial the number. It was picked up the second it rang this time.

"Dylan?"

"Hey Scott."

"I tried to call back but all I got was this Australian voice-"

"Yeah well hey I've got a… friend with me and he's a real good doctor and I was thinking maybe he could help…" Medic took the phone from Scout and put it to his ear.

"Hello there, my names Dr. Burgstaller, Scout tells me your mother is poorly?" Scout could hear Scotts voice speaking but not was being said. As the conversation went on and on Medics face grew sterner and sterner. He didn't say much just listened and asked questions. When the conversation slowed he glanced at Scout who looked at Medic with such a trusting and pitiful look in his eyes Medic almost tried to comfort the boy. He cleared his throat. "Cancer is a tricky thing and there is not much that can be done, especially when it is so aggressive. But I will be signing Scout out on sick leave so he may return home…"

Scouts face dropped. He leaned back against the wall letting it hold him up. Medic said farewell and hung up the phone gently. He looked to Scout. "I'm sorry, Scout." And he walked away.

Scout ran to his room and slammed the door. He was finally letting all of what was happening sink in and he burst into tears. He sat by his door and just cried. When he had more control over his body he threw himself at his dresser and dug out his rosary, he did what his mother would have wanted and he began to pray. He counted his beads and hoped that God would hear him.

Please don't take my mother away. Please. Please. Please.

Scout prayed until dinner came and went and he prayed long into the night until he fell asleep leaning against his bed. When the sun came up he cracked open crusty eyes and slowly listed his aching body. Immediately he packed some clothes and left his room. He walked past MedBay, which was dark, and into the Mess. Medic was there, with Sniper, they were speaking quietly by the coffee machine.

"Morning kid, how you doing?" Sniper noticed him first.

Scout shrugged. He didn't feel much like talking. He felt heavy, like his legs were made of lead. His pack dug into his shoulder painfully, and the rosary tangled in the hairs on the back of his neck painfully, but he didn't have the will power to move them.

"Snipers going to drive you to the airport…" Medic spoke gently.

Scout mouthed thanks and sat down at the table waiting for the older men to finish their coffee. The longer he sat the angrier he felt, his mother could die any minute and they were just drinking coffee! Scout seethed in silent fury as he waited. Finally the two men lead him out to snipers van, surprisingly Medic jumped in the back with Scout. The young boy didn't question it, he didn't care. He sat on Snipers bed quietly, looking out the window as they drove down dirt roads and through small towns. Medic moved to sit in the front with Sniper when they stopped for gas claiming car sickness. Scout didn't care. The second the door closed behind Medic he burst into tears again, hugging his pack close and glaring at the sky, he had moved on from praying; now all felt was rage.

Scout didn't remember falling asleep but he woke up with Snipers face above him, trying to smile. Scout felt rage again, this time for sniper. How dare the man look at him like that, patronizing him, feeling sorry for him, acting like his mother was already…. Dead.

Scout had never thought the actual word before that moment; he had to fight to keep the tears in. Sniper seemed to see them anyway. He sat down next to Scout.

"I'm real close with my folks to, if something happened to my Mum… I wouldn't know what to do." He put a hand on Scouts shoulder. "Your bein' real brave you know, going to see her. It ain't gonna' be easy neither. I've seen what cancer can do to a person…"

"Can you just shut the fuck up." Scout got up and pushed past Sniper, slamming the camper door closed before Sniper could follow. Scout stood at the small airport terminal, took deep breath of the gas flavored air and walk through the door. He heard foot steps behind him that he knew belonged to Medic, he'd let the man follow for now. Scout got to the ticket counter and checked in. Medic waited behind him quietly. Scout moved on and rushed through the gate as fast as he could. When he took a seat in the terminal he was surprised to see Medic with a small pack of his own and a suitcase, holding a boarding pass.

"What are you…"

"I'm your attending doctor, you are sick." Medic sat down next to him and pulled out a stack of files and began to scribble away at it. Scout couldn't make it out. Not only did Medic have the handwriting of a doctor he also wrote in German. Scout shut his mouth and waited until they were called onto the plane. They were silent almost the entire flight, except for when Medic offered Scout a book which Scout actually accepted, though he didn't actually read more than a chapter. Medic also ordered them a few small whiskeys, which Scout happily downed and savored the burn. He thanked Medic as the alcohol blurred his sentences and once again he fell asleep.

He woke up as the plane touched ground with a hard shake. He gathered his things as the passengers clapped for the pilot and they were allowed off the plane. The entire trip was a blur up until there but the second his body realized it was home, and he was safe in a taxi with Medic at his side he was on high alert. Every nerve was on fire and when they got to his small town home he grew up in all he did was stare for a good while as Medic payed the cabbie. The Doc walked up the path and rang the bell, Scout followed behind unsure if he should just walk in. It was Medics first time there and he was a stranger, would it be weird?

Medic spoke to him quietly. "if I were you I'd try and think about the last time you saw your mother, about how she looked, sounded, smelled; because that is not the woman who you are going to see behind this door."

Scout actually appreciated the doc's words, he didn't treat him like a baby or try and sugar coat it. Scout needed it, he needed people to stay the same.

The door opened and Scott was there, Chelly (his wife was behind him). They looked tired, their eyes were red and clothes wrinkled. "Hey there Dil, and you must be Dr. Burgstaller. Thanks for bringing him home." Scott opened the door and the two mercenaries walked in. Medic could say that Scouts home was exactly how he would have imagined it. Cluttered and colorful and more like a shrine to the eight brothers that grew up there than anything. Medic didn't dawdle however and dropped his pack while keeping a hand on the suitcase.

"Ma in her room?" Scout asked.

"Yeah. I have her lunch, would you like to take it?" Chelly asked. She lead Scout into presumably the kitchen and then up a set of stairs. Scott and Medic stood alone.

"Thanks for bringing him home." Scott said.

"You've already said that. And Scout is perfectly capable of finding his own way home; I came to see if I could be of any help. Cancer, unfortunately is just one of those things that even I can't cure." Medic admitted.

"Well it never hurt to try. Can I get you anything; you've had a long trip."

"I'm fine. Why don't you go check on Scout with you mother. I will speak with her later." Medic said smoothly. Scott felt awkward leaving a stranger alone in his home but he did so anyway. The way the German man spoke compelled him to.

Up in the bedroom Scout fought not to cry into his mother's check. She was thin and pale, her hair was gone, and sores covered her body. She was a skeleton of a woman. She spoke slowly, her words cracked and slurred. There was medical supplies around the room and it smelled of ammonia.

"I love you Ma." Scout whispered to her. "I love you so much."

The woman touched his face gently. "My baby boy, you didn't have to come all the way to see me. You've got that important job of yours, they need to there."

"They let me come home Ma, to take care of you."

"Oh I don't need taking care of, the Docs say I'm doing well. My hairs gonna' start growing back and everything. I've felt great since I stopped that awful Chemo stuff. It wasn't doing no good anyway. Made me look like an old woman."

"You look great Ma."

"Oh hush, I taught you better than to lie. Now why don't you tell me all about that job you got? Your letters are always so short and I can hardly read that chicken scratch hand writing of yours."

Scout knew he couldn't really tell his mother about what he did, but he did what he could. He talked and talked and she listened and managed a smile, he had a few Polaroid's in his back he just happened to have that he showed her, though he avoided any that had weapons. Night came and Scott brought in dinner, Scout ate while his Ma poked at her food. When Scout started getting tired he gave his Ma a hug and took the plates down stairs. He came back up to help her get ready for bed. Chelly usually did it but he didn't care, she was his Ma. He helped her clean up and get dressed for bed, while she sat in the tub he changed to sheets to clean ones and tidied the room, it was more cleaning than he had done all year. He helped his Ma into bed. She held his hand tight as she could and gave him a kiss on the head.

"I love you Dylan you know that. You're such a good boy, and I'm so proud of you. No mother could be more proud." She held him close. "I remember when you were born, all blonde hair and blue eyes. All your brothers have black hair but you; you're as golden as the sun. And you just kept smiling and laughing. I've never heard a baby laugh as much as you did. If I had one wish in the world it would be for you to never have a reason to stop laughing. Doing so would make the very angels cry I think." Scouts eyes glanced down to the crucifix around his mother's neck.

"Ma?" Scout looked her in the face.

"Oh don't mind me. I'm just being silly."

"I love you, Ma."

"I love you to Dylan, now why don't you send in that handsome doctor you showed me a picture of earlier so we can all get to sleep." She hugged him close again and kissed him. Scout kissed her back and once again told his Ma he loved her. He left the room and not long after Medic stepped in.

"Mrs. McLaughlin." He pulled over a chair. "It's nice to see you in person, I've heard a lot about you from your son."

"He finds it hard to keep his mouth shut I'm afraid." She chuckled painfully; she let loose a few dry coughs. "I hope he isn't too much of a hassle."

"We are all very proud of him. He's a good boy." Medic pulled open his suitcase. "Now when we spoke on the phone, you brought up-"

"I haven't changed my mind." She said slowly. "I hope you understand, I'm just… I'm so tired and I can't take this pain anymore. All I wanted was to see my baby boy one last time… before…" tears welled in her eyes.

"We do not have to do this tonight if you are not-"

"NO! no." She brushed the tears from her eyes. "I would do it myself but…" he hand rested on her cross. "Do you think he will understand, God?"

"I cannot say." Medic opened the case and took out a bottle and a syringe. "You will feel like you are following asleep. You won't feel any pain." He filled the syringe with the clear liquid.

"I'm glad my son has someone like you in his life, to look out for him."

"I'm glad I've had the pleasure of knowing your son. You raised quite a boy." Medic turned to the woman in the bed. "Are you ready?"

"Tell my son that I love him. And that… I have a letter for him… for all his brothers. In an envelope in the dresser." She held out her arm to Medic.

"I'm sure he already knows." Medic slid in the needle.

"Thank you." And the woman fell asleep. A few minutes later her heart stopped. When he was sure she was dead Medic picked up his things and left the room. He returned to the sofa where he would spend the night, tomorrow he would return to the base, he would give Scout till the end of the month to return.

In the morning it was Scout who tried to wake his mother. And when he found her cold and stiff, with her bowled evacuated he screamed. He cried. He called for help. Those crowded into the small bedroom and mourned. Medic stayed downstairs waiting. When the morgue showed up to pick up the body they couldn't pull Scout away from her side.

Medic waited until Scott and Chelly returned with the youngest family member to leave. He had cleaned out their mothers bedroom while they had been gone as a silent apology for what he had done. He bid good bye and thanked them for their hospitality. Scout had his mother's crucifix fixed onto his rosary chain which hung on top of his shirt near his MannCo dogtags.

Scout didn't return to work for two week. When he got back he was much happier in spirits than Medic remembered seeing him. Scout laughed more, smiled more, than Medic had ever see him do. And at night when Medic would walk by the boys room he heard him cry.


	2. Once Upon A Time in Nazi Germany

Joseph Helmutt Burgstaller.

Joseph Helmutt Burgstaller was born December 1st, 1920 in the early morning to Bethanee and Hugo Burgstaller. It was a cold morning and Hugo had been in the fields. His wife had been in labor since noon the previous day and none of the chores had been done. When he returned Bethanee had been holding a swaddled baby to her breast and een smiling happily. They named the baby Joseph.

Joseph was an incredibly clever child. Always demanding something to occupy his hands and mind; And in the devastated country of post WW1 Germany there was no lack of chores for the young boy to do. At the early age of 9 months he began to walk. His mother taught him to read and write, but soon he was borrowing books and teaching her. His father praised him often.

During the day he worked on the farm lifting heavy barrels of hay and food onto his shoulders, he pulled the plows alongside the oxen. His body grew as strong as his mind and while his frame was slender there was no question to the strength the boy possessed. He was 13 in the year 1933 when his mother got sick. Despite all his strength and intelligence Joseph wasn't able to help her suffering. She wheezed and coughed and cried. The doctors came and bleed her, they gave her tonics and tablets and powders. Once he listened to her hear beat in her chest. He couldn't hear it over the rattle of her lings. It wasn't long since he had first noticed her suffering that she passed in the night. It was slow and painful the doctors named the sickness typhus and there was nothing that could have been done. They buried her in the church yard close to the city of Struttgard in a grave that Joseph had dug himself.

Within the year the farm had died. Hugo hadn't been able to care for the animals and plants in his grief and Joseph couldn't keep up with the chores on his own. It was during this time that Joseph found out a new way to occupy his hands and to calm the anger he felt. Dissection. Animals died off on the farm before they could be sold, Food had to be hunted and Hugo wasn't going to be the one to do it. Butchery was calming to Joseph, but soon he became interested in the human body as well.

His father was a catholic man and after the death of his Jewish wife had begun taking his son to church every week. It was here joseph began to work as an undertaker apprentice in dealing with the dead. The undertaker was an old man and often left the work to Joseph. He would explore every inch of the bodies and was able to cover the evidence of his curiosity with cloth and make up. He was never caught.

One night in the early summer of 1935 Joseph returned home to find his father on his knees in their home with a pistol to his head. His eyes met Josephs, and the man shook in fear and sobbed. He dropped the gun and his son took it into his own hands and put it to his father's head and quickly pulled the trigger. Joseph kept the body of his father for a short period, trying out different ways to preserve the parts, but soon he lost interest. Joseph stuffed the parts of his father into the far end of a coffin and buried his father with the body of an old woman. Joseph went to the police asking for help finding his missing father. The man was never found. What was found was a letter kept in a bank only to be opened if Joseph was ever left alone.

In the late summer of 1935 a car came to retrieve Joseph. Joseph had never in in a car before. It took him, and his few belonging to a grand home on the other side of the city. He as given his own room, fresh clothes, books, and toys. This is where he met his father's great aunt Ada. She had married a series of rich men, all of whom sadly passed a handful of years after their weddings. Joseph loved his great aunt Ada. Joseph was shown the world he had only dreamed of. In the last month of summer he forgot what if felt like to be hungry, and tired. He took a bath every day; his hands lost their calluses and were soft and pail. When summer ended he went to a actual school.

He hated the uniforms but there were girls there, pretty ones, and other boys as well. Word got out that he had spent his childhood on a farm mucking shit, the other boys had tried to put him in his place. He got a black eye; the other boys went to the hospital.

Joseph excelled in school. He excelled in his social life. Women and men wanted to be near him but the older joseph got the stronger his old urges became. He was fascinated with anatomy. He became obsessed with the human condition. After he finished primary in 1937 he went to medical school to study Asylum medicine. Medical school was where he med Romhilde. Romhilde wasn't a student; she would hand around outside the school late at night and wait for the boys to get out. One night she sat down next to Joseph, on a bench as he lit up a cigarette. She took it from his lips and put it in her own.

"Will you marry me?" she asked.

"I have no need for a wife." Joseph surrendered the cigarette.

"Not even for a night?" Romhilde has asked. Joseph had taken her home.

As they lay naked, over sexed that night Romhilde had brought out a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid. Morphine.

Romhilde and the Morphine became Joseph's new obsession. During the day he would have the morphine, injected between the toes so no one would see, and in the night he would also have Romhilde. Then came the night he found her crying. She was pregnant.

She asked him to marry her once more, and he agreed. That night as she slept he filled her with so much morphine that her heart stopped. He took her body and kept it for a while. He took the small fetus from her. A small clump of flesh no larger than his thumb, and placed it in formaldehyde and hid it amongst the jars of specimens in the school. Her body parts followed the same fate. His professors never noticed the additions to the collections the stood before as the taught the classes.

The Second World War began. Joseph was forced to break his morphine addiction.

Symptoms:

· anxiety

· nausea

· vomiting

· abdominal pain

· Involuntary sexual climax

· Diarrhea

· Insomnia

· sweating

· depression

· involuntary limb movements

· mood swings

72 hours later and he was free.

In the year 1941 he was pulled away from his schooling to become a doctor in the military. They sent him to the eastern front and for six months he sewed limbs and stitched belly's closed. Then two men dressed in black leather came and put him in a truck. They drove him to Austria. Through the gates of Mauthausen. They took his clothes, shaved his hair. His arm was strapped to a table and a series of numbers were inked into his flesh. He was told to keep the workers alive. He never ate. Ne never slept. He went mad. In the dark, cold, and dead world he lived in he forgot how to breathe, how to cry, and how to fight. His body starved away and he became hardly more than a skeleton. He would count the bones and name them to himself in the late night when the moon would glow on his jaundiced skin. Joseph learned how to hate. Joseph cared for the other prisoners, he let them die. They thanked him with their final breaths. For every death Joseph was punished. Burned, beaten and raped.

The year was 1945. The war was ending. They had been moved from Austria and deeper into Germany. The Americans were coming. Joseph broke free in the night and taking a bone saw in his hand he stalked from room to room and cut the throats of the guards, the officers, their wives and children. He killed as many as he could before the sun rose and brought the American soldiers. As they were at the gates the last German officer, besides those that had already fled, had Joseph backed up against a wall with a gun pointed at his heart. As the German pulled the trigger an American jumped out of the sunlight and cut the Germans head from his neck with a shovel edge. The bullet buried itself in the wall beside Joseph who didn't even have the will to flinch.

Joseph was taken with the rest of the survivors and put in recovery. He ate and slept, and felt warm. The Americans asked him to go home with them. He agreed in very broken English. He took a job in the medical bay, caring for soldiers and survivors of the war. In the American base Joseph felt alone for the first time in his life. He was quiet, shy, and awkward. He dint speak the language and he was skittish in ways that made him feel unlike himself.

One day a doctor who spoke german came to him and asked him to assit him on a project. A light frequency that could increase cell growth and heal patients in seconds. Joseph worked with the scientist but the ban was old and he wasn't as clever as Joseph. Joseph took over when the man died of a drug overdose. They sent Joseph to America where he lived on the military base and developed the medigun. The radiation was unstable but controllable. It bad been years since the war but Joseph was still restless. There were still men out there. Evil men. And one of them was on his base. He saw him when he ate lunch. When we walked in the moon light. Joseph watched the man laugh and smile with American soldiers who had to know who the man was. They had to know.

There was a general who was getting married, and the wedding was to take place on the base. Joseph corners the Nazi doctor he had known so well in Austria when he had let a patient die. Joseph tied him down on the table he used to heal American soldiers and tested out his brand new medigun on him. It kept him alive as he removed the very bones from the Nazis body.

Joseph packed everything he had and piled into a large white catering van outside the base church and drove away as the bells began to chime. It was a few days before he was discovered missing and a bounty was put on his head. But by then he had been contacted by a pretty woman in purple about a job and a second chance. He took the title of Medic. Glad to be rid of the name that held such sad stories.

The year was 1962 when Medic joined the RED team. He found a peace in the familiarity of warfare, the guiltless killing satisfied his rage, and a safe place with the other team members who had no idea who he was. they often assumed him to be a Nazi and he let them believe it. He preferred it to them knowing that he had once been.


End file.
